Chapter 17 #2
“Please. I will sign anything. Release you from anything. But please, you do it. I trust you. I only trust you…”
“Nilay, it…”
“Are you scared?” He asked.
“Of what?”
“Of me making a smart comment there and you killing me on the spot?”
Her teeth gnarled. He smirked — “You challenged me to be as obnoxious as I can.”
“Let me talk to Dr. Shravan.”
“Tell him I insist, call Rajiv and inform him too.”
“Ok,” she cleaned his face of the trail of tear that he himself had been unaware of. “Now, I am going to go get things in motion, and I am calling Maya and Gautam to sit with you. Maya can bring the dead alive with her motivational rants. Hmm?”
“Yeah, call her.” He took a deep breath. “And, Doctor?”
“Hmm?”
“Make me ok for you.”
————————————————————
The Cath Lab was cold. Colder than he had expected.
The shiver set in just at the temperature drop.
And there was still the entire procedure to go.
Then the result. Nilay stared at the sterile surroundings, wondering what he would do if he got a chance to refurbish it all.
That was the only way he could hold himself out of this nightmare.
The nursing staff — they were really good to him, tender, joking, motivating.
He remained his non-obnoxious self for them, internally ideating how he would change their drab scrubs into something…
vibrant. They laid him down on the table and tucked a blanket over him.
“Cold?” A nurse asked. He nodded.
“You want another one?”
“No,” he managed, his throat drying up.
Machines began to buzz to life and some murmurs behind his head caught his attention. Nilay wanted to check, but the room was in a haze.
“Mr. Patel, good afternoon.”
In those four words, every shiver coursing through his blood went silent.
His skin warmed up. She came into his line of sight and he looked at a whole other woman.
Half her face covered by a surgical mask, hair tucked under a cap, winter green scrubs that, he checked — she wasn't wearing inside out.
When he raised his gaze, her eyes were crinkled. Only slightly.
“Good afternoon, Doctor.”
“Mr. Patel.” Dr. Shravan came on her heels. “You finally did bring us all here.”
Nilay chuckled — “Dr. Kaapadia is here to take us out.”
The staff around brightened up with chuckles.
“He is in good form, team,” Dr. Shravan hyped the room up. “Let’s go. Dr. Kapadia, ready?”
Ritu started taking stats and readings, asking technical-sounding questions without any emotion or reaction. Nilay tried to decipher what each reading meant — good or bad, at least. But her tone was flat, neutral, as always. He couldn’t glean anything.
“You look pale, Mr. Patel,” she remarked. And his eyes whirled up to hers, just over his head. “Try not to faint before I start. Ruins my reputation.”
He smirked — “Try to be quick, I have already ruined my plans for this.”
She leaned in slightly. “You’ll feel pressure, not pain. If anything hurts, tell me.”
“Maybe.”
“No heroics here.”
He felt pressure in his right wrist. The nick.
It had been numbed some time ago and now it was being poked.
No pain. Ritu’s eyes were on his, and he realised with belated shock that she was working on his wrist, already pushing something in through the cut.
He couldn’t see it though, and her eyes went away from his, to the screen behind him.
She was threading a wire through his artery.
They had explained the procedure to him before starting.
Now, he had nothing but those steps they had told him about to corroborate.
“You ok?” She asked without looking at him, eyes on the screen.
“Bored.”
He couldn’t see it behind that mask, but he knew she was smirking.
“Left main’s fine,” she said to the room. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. That meant something good.
“LAD… wait.” Her voice was just as flat. The room was quiet. He couldn’t make out anything.
“Share with the class,” he tried to instigate her. Her eyes came to his, stern, then went back. Fear set in. She wasn't joking back. She wasn’t snubbing back. She wasn’t…
“There,” Dr. Shravan was just as calm. “Plaque morphology’s different. You couldn’t have predicted this over CT.”
There was a block. Fuck. Of course there was! He had an attack! Something ought to have caused it. He was naive in believing it would have cleared this time too.
“Plaque has ruptured,” she finally said. “Seventy plus.”
“Any more?” Dr. Shravan asked. The room remained silent. Ritu worked, her eyes not coming back to his. On the screen behind him.
“Stenting or direct CABG?” Nilay asked, hoping his voice came out steadier than he felt.
“Gagging, for starters,” she retorted. And even though her voice was flat, dry, as always, he knew she was keeping it up for his benefit.
For long minutes, nothing was said. Nilay panicked.
But he kept himself grounded for her, for himself, and for the future that was waiting for them.
He took his eyes up to her — masked jaw, capped hair, pretty brown eyes staring unblinkingly at the internal wiring of his heart.
That was the moment he decided that he would ask her.
He would ask her to marry him. Have his kids.
Take care of his heart. Put him in his place.
Walk on sand with him. Let him cover her eyes when she sleeps.
Devour the food he cooks. Settle here or in New York, or wherever she wanted. But settle with
him.
“What are you thinking, Mr. Patel?” She finally asked.
“Why?”
“Your pulse is better than it was a minute ago.”
“Strangling my assistant the next time I see him.”
“Keep thinking it. We are going in for stenting.”
“So… no CABG…”
“You want one?” Her eyes came to his, now amused. “Prep the balloon,” she said to the room.
Nilay grinned.
“There is one blockage in NAD, that is one of the major arteries supplying blood to a big portion of your heart muscle. Everything else is clean. Your blocks from the previous attack are stable and shrinking. We are not touching them. One stent will go in and open the LAD up nicely.”
“Ok.”
“Stent next. Size 2.75… Mr. Patel, you might feel a flutter in your chest or skip a beat now. Relax,” she cued.
He had never felt relief this bad. Like something in his chest was ballooning. Wait, was that the balloon she was blowing inside his heart? It felt uncomfortable but not painful. Pressure bloomed in his chest.
“Set, and… all clear.”
He eyed her and her eyes were on the screen. “One clean pipeline. You’ll complain less now.”
“I was complaining?”
“Constantly. Now you’ll live long enough to irritate people properly.”
The nursing staff chuckled, and Nilay felt Dr. Shravan’s hand pat his free hand. “You did great, Mr. Patel.”
They started winding up then, but he did not care anymore.
Things were opened up, whatever they were.
Ritu was here. And his faith in her was reiterated.
As long as she was here, he was safe. He felt the pressure release from his wrist and then a whole new pressure clamped it.
He turned his head and this time caught sight of a band being taped around his wrist.
“All opened up,” Ritu stepped back to let the nurse work on him. “Keep the plumbing clean now, Mr. Patel.”
Nilay glanced at her. He couldn’t help the smile that split his face. It was part relief, part realisation.
“I will see you in your room in a few hours. Keep your wrist stabilised. The nursing staff will help you set it up. We are keeping you in the hospital for the next 48 hours. After we see how your heart stabilises, run enzyme checks and ECGs, we will release you with a new set of meds and rules.”
“More lifestyle changes.” He grinned.
“Your poor assistant.”
He held her gaze — “My poor assistant.”